Fic: Penny for the Guy
Title: Penny for the Guy
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway
Rating: G
Word Count: 500
Summary: Halloween was for the kiddies. They weren't kiddies, though.
A/N: I couldn't participate in the Halloween Challenge, so instead I wrote something for Bonfire Night. And I continue to be grateful for the calm, kind, and drama-free Lewis Fandom.
Bonfire Night was mostly for the older folks these days. The kiddies had Halloween, but Robbie remembered when it was Bonfire Night that was celebrated. So did all the pensioners at the allotments, so they always had a Bonfire Night celebration. It never went too late and never got too out of hand, but it was enough for them all. The fire was warm, the beer was cold, and everyone brought a penny for the Guy, or at least for the beer.
This year was the first year he wasn’t working or getting ready to work, which meant he could actually attend without having to come late or leave even earlier than everyone else did. James attended with him, of course, since it was practically his allotment as much as Robbie’s. James certainly did most of the spadework in every sense.
They arrived and got their drinks and then Robbie got pulled into a knot of his allotment neighbors without really realizing it. With all the chit-chatting and discussing of the last harvests, he didn’t notice that James wasn’t at his shoulder anymore until he turned to confirm something about his grandson’s latest adventures and found James not there to agree. He glanced around to see James standing off by himself, staring into the fire while his beer got warmer. Time to rescue his sergeant from himself again, apparently.
“Oi, best drink that before it’s a hot toddy,” Robbie warned his former bagman, who glanced up and smiled slightly.
“To be a hot toddy, it’d have to not only get warmer but also change chemical composition, sir,” James pointed out, but did take a sip.
“Taken up bartending as well as teaching, James?” Robbie asked rhetorically, and ignored the sir. Public school.
“Might not be a bad combination, as long as I didn’t try to do both at the same time,” James pointed out, which made Robbie roll his eyes.
“Why’re you over here by yourself? Afraid old Mister Fforde’ll start in on his bunions or something?” he asked. That was always a worry at any allotment gathering. Fforde never got them treated but always treated everyone to them.
“‘Oh, what can ail thee, knight at arms, alone and palely loitering’” James quoted, which was not an answer in any way except his own, and Robbie didn’t have a clue what he was quoting now, so he went with his usual technique.
“Pale’s right enough. You keep spendin’ all that time in the library, you’ll be transparent by Hilary Term.”
That was enough to pull James out of whatever funk he’d got himself into, somehow, and the other man chuckled.
“The Bod might enjoy having another ghost. But I take your point. Let us join the revelry and discussion of Mister Fforde’s bunions, at least until we all go home to watch Newsnight.”
“Right enough,” Robbie agreed, and nudged his friend. “Just one thing, though.”
James raised a skeptical eyebrow and Robbie held out a hand.
“Penny for the Guy?”